


Rest My Head At Night Content

by QuickSilverFox3



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Comfort, Established Relationship, Injury Recovery, M/M, Mutual Pining, Worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24179419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickSilverFox3/pseuds/QuickSilverFox3
Summary: Billy takes care of Goodnight.-As if feeling Billy’s eyes on him, Goodnight tilted his head a fraction to meet his gaze — his familiar fake smile reflexively on his face, the one that sent women swooning, lip curled just enough to flash his golden tooth — and Billy tapped a single finger against the curve of his cheekbone: Finish up now. A message and a warning in one single, subtle motion.
Relationships: Goodnight Robicheaux/Billy Rocks
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	Rest My Head At Night Content

**Author's Note:**

> 26 (Massage Fic) & 35 (Bathtub Fic), Billy Rocks x Goodnight Robicheaux for anon on tumblr
> 
> aka How many different ways I can write Billy and Goodnight's first meeting? At least two more

Goodnight was slipping. 

None of the other men around the table noticed — drunk on the foul liquid that was claiming to be beer, weak and suspiciously yellow, but they downed it down by the barrel; and drunk on the perceived power of having  _ the _ Goodnight Robicheaux at their table — but Goodnight couldn’t hide anything from Billy, didn’t even try to. 

His face was drawn tight with pain when eyes moved away from him, a cloud passing over the sun. His free hand was pressed to the opened wound in the leg — blood oozing into the dark sticky fabric — knuckles turning white on his cards, a faint tremor rattling through him.

As if feeling Billy’s eyes on him, Goodnight tilted his head a fraction to meet his gaze — his familiar fake smile reflexively on his face, the one that sent women swooning, lip curled just enough to flash his golden tooth — and Billy tapped a single finger against the curve of his cheekbone:  _ Finish up now. _ A message and a warning in one single, subtle motion.

Billy stood, not waiting to see Goodnight’s response, trusting that his partner would be able to read the tension in the lines of his shoulders. Billy could never shake the feeling of being caged, the pressure of the walls against his skin, the awareness that at any moment someone could take offence at his mere existence in the same room as them — it happened countless times before that bar in Texas, blood coating his hands so often he feared it would never wash away.

“Hot water, please,” Billy asked the woman behind the bar, her hands cracked and reddened where they rested on the pitted wood. “For him.”

Billy jerked his head back to where Goodnight was sitting and watched the suspicion wash away from her face in an instant. Distaste coated his tongue like copper, but he kept his face carefully blank and returned to Goodnight’s side, just before the other left the room, making his excuses in a loud and jovial voice, accent thickened to the point of almost incomprehension for Billy.

“I think I may have found us a mark for tomorrow,” Goodnight murmured into Billy’s ear, transfering all of his weight onto his shoulders the moment the door swung shut behind them. His breath smelled of the whiskey Billy was used to, rich and smoky.

The stairs were dark and quiet, the raucous noise of the bar strangely muffled in this hush of twilight, and Billy carefully pushed Goodnight into the wall, muffling his noise of question with a kiss, nipping at his bottom lip.

“You talk too much.”

Goodnight sighed, grinning at Billy, features soft with affection. He moved with Billy without protest, biting back the small noises of pain deep in his throat, stairs creaking and protesting beneath their weight.

The room was small but they had slept in worst — Goodnight had been a soldier, accustomed to sleeping in the mud, the rattle of stray gunshots lingering in the air; Billy was an outlaw, snatching moments of sleep as men hunted for him, driven by rage and fear. 

“There’ll be hot water up soon.”

“You going to be my nurse, darlin’?”

Billy raised an eyebrow in response as Goodnight lay on one of the beds with a sigh, eyes immediately slipping closed, purple lingering like bruises in the hollows beneath his eyes. He sat down on the spare bed, and pulled out a cigarette, drawing the sweet smoke into his lungs as he listened for the creak of footsteps on the stairs.

⁂

“Think that girl was making eyes at you, Billy.”

Billy paused, tongue caught between his teeth as he fumbled with the buttons of Goodnight’s trousers.

“I was only looking at you,” he replied, frowning at the button and snapping the thread it was caught on.

“You say such sweet things when you’re trying to take my trousers off.”

The fabric stuck to his leg, blood dried and matted on the dark fabric, coming away with painful slowness. Goodnight’s fingers spasmed on Billy’s bare shoulders, blunt nails digging into the rough scars he found there. 

“No underwear, Goody?” Billy sighed, kissing a scar that wrapped around Goodnight’s thigh, slightly raised against his lips, and stood back up carefully, Goodnight’s arms dropping to wrap around his waist.

“I was hoping tonight was going to go in a very different direction?”

Goodnight looked so hopeful, Billy couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of his throat, kissing away the hurt look that crossed Goodnight’s face.

“When I know you won’t bleed on me,” he promised, Goodnight’s fingers toying with his hairpin, slightly scratching against his scalp.

“Spoilsport.”

Goodnight moved away before he could respond, taking Billy’s hairpin with him and pressing it into Billy’s gloved hands. Water spilled out of the copper basin as he climbed in, steadying himself on the sides, steam clinging to his skin like a caress. 

“Going to join me?”

⁂

Billy flinched away from the man, curling further in on himself, biting down on the groan of pain as the movement pulled at the bruises littering his torso. He glanced reflexively at the gun strapped to his hip — although what was more dangerous was his tongue, charming an entire bar, or at least those who were still able to hear him, around to his point of view — and the man followed his gaze, a small frown creasing his face.

“Well I’m going to take a bath. Water will be cold, but my daddy always said that was good for the constitution.”

He — Goodnight, he said his name was, polite even as he held Billy’s warrant in his hands — shucked off his clothes methodically, revealing a pattern of scars over his torso — bullet marks mixed with knife scars, the body of a man who knew a hard life despite the strangeness of his accent, rounded and smooth. 

“I’m going to trust that you won’t stab me in the back with those fancy knives of yours,” Goodnight called as he waded into the water, voice cracking and breaking at the chill, quickly going out deep enough to cover himself from Billy’s gaze.

“Why trust me?” Billy called, shifting slightly closer, the glint of the setting sun off the lake making it seem as if the water was on fire.

“Why not? You seem like a good man.”

The man was crazy. Billy should run, should disappear off into the woods and continue running from the men sent after him, run until his legs gave out and blood filled his mouth as he died for someone to extract the price of his bounty from his skin.

“You said you had an offer for me?” Billy asked, dipping a hand in the water, goosebumps erupting along his skin, blood swirling away from him like ink.

⁂

“What did you say?”

Goodnight’s cheeks flushed, a heady red that had nothing to do with the heat of the water.

“You know I can’t wrap my tongue around your proper name, love. But you were lost in thought, and God does love a trier, as my daddy always used to say.”

Billy laughed, leaning forward to press his face into the warm skin of Goodnight’s neck, stubble scratching at his temple.

“You might as well share this bath with me,” Goodnight said, carding his fingers through Billy’s hair as if it was an act of worship, kissing softly across his brow, “I don’t think even I can convince our generous host to bring us some more hot water.”

It was a squeeze — Billy elbowed Goodnight twice as he climbed in, cautious of the wound in his leg — but eventually, Billy was surrounded by warmth, Goodnight’s thumbs digging into the tense muscles in his back, wringing muffled groans from him; and there was no place he would rather be.

**Author's Note:**

> [ My Tumblr!](https://inkformyblood.tumblr.com) Requests are always welcome!  
> [Trope mash up list!](https://inkformyblood.tumblr.com/post/615200731645050880/fanfiction-trope-mash-up)  
> 


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